Biggest Little City in the World" (1/5)
by AngelFood
Summary: Scully goes to San Francisco...Mulder tracks her down. Wackiness ensues!!


The Biggest Little City in the World Jennifer Mauricio & Ashley Evans AngelFoood@aol.com & FlukeGirl1@aol.com 

Disclaimer: "The X-Files", Dana Scully, Fox Mulder, and all other pre-existing characters are property of 1013 Productions and Fox Television. No copyright infringement intended. Classification: Alternate Universe Story Summary: Scully goes to San Francisco for some alone time. It doesn't quite work out the way she planned. Rating: R for Language and some adult themes Author's Notes: This story is loosely based on our adventures (and a couple of other people's) in the beautiful city of San Francisco the weekend of the X-Files Expo, March 1998. (7 Laps = 1 mile!). This is not MSR, but it is No Romo and Shipper Friendly. We're equal opportunity authors! Jen's Thanks: Whose idea was this anyway?? Ashley, we rule. Thank you for your infinite patience, and for indulging my little quirks. To our beta readers, thanks for trudging through. Ashley's Thanks: Thanks to Jen for putting up with me saying "But I'm not inspired tonight…" and letting me live. Also thanks to the betas, especially the hand-picked non-fanfic-reading one (that'd be you, Catherine). Special thanks to Eric for cracking us up with his living-in-S.F. story and letting us shamelessly filch it. (Of course he won't know we did that until he reads this, so ) Feedback is always appreciated, and frankly, we live for it. Flames are used to line our respective litter boxes. Please send any comments to AngelFoood@aol.com and FlukeGirl1@aol.com 

PROLOGUE: 

March 7, 1998 2:26 a.m. Grand Hyatt Hotel on Union Square, San Francisco 

Special Agent Dana Scully tottered gingerly up to the concierge's desk. She was totally oblivious to the stares she drew; she had been for some time now. Of course, at this hour, she was sure she was the only non-freak on the streets. 

She slowed, something in her peripheral vision catching her eye. Turning to the left, she found herself face to face with a terrifying image: her own. 

"M-miss?" The night concierge said carefully, not wanting to startle her. She held up a hand to silence him. Until now, she had only imagined how disheveled she looked. It was obvious her imagination wasn't as active as it used to be. 

Her beautiful new dress hung in wet tatters around her shivering frame. Her right shoe squished loudly when she walked. Her left shoe, well, she wasn't sure what had become of her left shoe. It was probably not too far from the heel that had broken off of the right one. 

Her hair was an angry red mess, with bits of asphalt and Saf-T-Glass in it. Her fingernails, once perfectly manicured, were now torn and dirty. "I lost my key." 

"You are a guest here?" the concierge asked, warily. 

"Yes, Dana Scully, room 2722." 

"Do you have any identification?" His eyes shifted to the bellhop, who stood there with a slightly bewildered look on his young face. 

"My identification is in my purse, with my hotel key. Doesn't it stand to reason that if I had my ID, I would also have my room key, and would already be upstairs by now?" She replied as calmly as she could. 

"Yes, ma'am, but you see, without some form of ID, I can't..." his words trailed off and his eyes grew wide. 

Reaching around behind her, she drew out her Sig Sauer, and placed it ever-so-gently on the counter. "I am Special Agent Dana Scully with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Badge number 2317-616. Now, may I please have a key to my room." 

Without taking his eyes of the gun for a second, he reached for a spare keycard and coded it as quickly as he could. He slid it over the counter. 

"Thank you," she said graciously, grabbing her gun with her right hand. Both the concierge and the bellboy flinched slightly. She walked to the elevator, wanting nothing more than to get upstairs and get out of these clothes. As the doors slid shut, she took out the Sig again. Popping the clip free, she shook the water from it. Visions of bubble 

baths were replaced by a single, all-consuming thought: The next time she laid eyes on Fox Mulder, he was a dead man. 

March 7, 1998 1:12 p.m. Grand Hyatt at Union Square, San Francisco 

Dana Scully luxuriated in the soft, scented water. What a perfect way to start a vacation! Her last attempt hadn't gone over so well, with an X-File getting in the way, as usual. But this time would be different. She'd waited until the last possible moment to file her Vacation Request, telling the human resources clerk that something had come up and she needed to go out of town briefly. Since she rarely took vacations, no one, not even Skinner, who had to sign off on it, questioned the short notice. 

This time, she hadn't even told Mulder she was going anywhere. She sent him an email from home right before the cab arrived to take her to Baltimore/Washington International. The message had been of the generic 'I'll-be-back-in- a-few-days' variety, and had contained no specifics. Dana Scully was free. 

She hadn't been back to San Francisco since her college days, when she had spent a semester here during med school. The city hadn't changed much, and that was part of its charm. Sure, there were new things everywhere you looked, but the old stand-bys were always there. 

She had arrived late Thursday night, and had checked in and ordered room service, looking forward to a peaceful night with a good book, or maybe some television. She had no concrete plans for the weekend; she would just do whatever her mood dictated. When she woke up Friday morning, she decided a little trip to the hotel's health room was in order. To work out in a facility that did not smell of sweaty FBI agents would indeed be a treat. 

Her workout had been invigorating, and she had decided to bathe, and then explore the city. Her rental car afforded her the luxury of even going across the bridge to Marin or Sausalito for a day. 

While her bath was running, she had ordered a fruit plate and some bottled water from room service (one of the things about vacations in different time zones…she tended to get caught up on missed sleep quickly). The cheerful voice on the other end of the phone told her it would be about 45 minutes until her lunch arrived at her door. That was plenty of time for a long soak in the tub. 

She had specifically requested a large room, to ensure that there would be a normal sized tub in her room, and not one of those tiny shower-only jobs. She had also brought a small sampling of her favorite bubble baths. She always enjoyed a good soak in Eucalyptus oil after a trip to the gym. 

She was just toweling off when there was a knock on the door. Had to be room service. She glanced at her watch. It hadn't been quite 45 minutes, but she was hungry so who was she to complain. "Be there in a second!" 

She cinched the robe belt around her waist and swept her wet hair back. After a quick glance in the mirror to make sure that she was decent, she strode to the door and pulled it open. 

"Don't tell me 'Ms. Up-And-At-Em-With-the-Roosters' is only just now getting showered and dressed?" 

As quickly as she opened the door, she slammed it shut again. Resting her forehead against the cool wood, she muttered, "This is not happening…this is NOT happening…" She took a deep breath and opened the door once more. 

She said nothing, as she tried to absorb her partner's slightly confused, typically smug grin and obviously brand-new "Property of Alcatraz Swim Team" sweatshirt without screaming. "There are only three reasons I can think of why you would be standing here in front of me right now. One, you have the Smoking Man tied up and stuffed in the trunk of your rental car, and need my help to beat the living hell out of him. Two, you found your sister, and you have to take me to meet her right away, because she's leaving on the Mothership in five minutes. Or three, you just found out that you have one hour left to live. If it is anything else, I don't want to hear it." 

Mulder's grin widened. "Would you believe the office was just too quiet without you, so I thought I would take a little weekend jaunt across our fine country and that ending up in the same city, even the same hotel as you, is pure coincidence?" 

Scully's eyebrow shot up in response. "And would you believe that I have killed men for less than this?" 

Mulder winked and tried to get past Scully into her room. "Aren't you gonna at least let me in so I can explain why I am here?" 

"What's to explain? I already told you the only three reasons that could have possibly brought you here. How did you know where I went, anyway? If my mother told you…" 

"Scully, have you forgotten what I do for a living? Yours isn't the first mysterious disappearance I have investigated. Finding out what hotel you were staying in was a piece of cake." 

She sighed in resignation, and moved aside to let him in. Maybe if they had lunch together, he would be happy, and she could spend the rest of her vacation blissfully alone. "Come on in," she sighed, resigned to her fate. "I will throw on some clothes and we'll go from there." 

He made a beeline for the nearest chair and plopped down in it, laying his leather jacket across his lap. "I'll take you to breakfast, how's that sound?" Mulder offered, flashing his patented puppy-dog eyes. 

"Breakfast? Mulder, it's half-past one in the afternoon! Most _decent_ restaurants stopped serving breakfast five hours ago!" 

"How about lunch then? My treat," he suggested. 

"How generous of you," she answered, her voice oozing sarcasm. "Now, sit tight while I get dressed and we will figure out where to go for a _quick_ lunch," she said, hoping her partner had caught the hint. 

Mulder nodded and folded his hands in his lap. He could smell the scent of whatever she had been bathing in, but couldn't place it. His eyes wandered over to the dresser, where various bottles of lotions and other mysterious things stood. He had to suppress a laugh, for in classic Dana Scully style, there was a Sig Sauer sitting in the middle of all the flowery potions. 

A few minutes later, she emerged. He had no idea how her clothes survived travel so wrinkle-free. Of course, she was anal enough to carry not only a travel iron, but a travel-sized ironing board as well. He started to make a comment to that effect, but luckily, his brain caught his tongue before it could get him in more trouble. "You sure you are going to be warm enough in that?" What had been intended to sound like concern had ended up sounding suspiciously patronizing. 

Scully looked down at her broomstick skirt and sweater. Sure, it was early March, but the weather report had said mid to upper 60's. That was practically tropical compared to Maryland weather this time of year. On the other hand, why the hell was he asking her if she was going to be warm enough? Bad enough he had shown up at her door the way he had. Now, he was questioning her wardrobe choices? 

"I'll be fine, Mulder." He didn't answer, so she took that as a cue it was time to get going. Pausing only to make a quick call to room service to cancel her order, they were on their way. Let's get this over with, she thought. 

The pair stood outside the hotel waiting for the doorman to hail them a cab. She had thought briefly about mentioning the rental car, but decided against it. It was under her name and on her credit card, and there was no way that she would put up with his constant pleas to drive it. Nor, could she afford him wrecking it by running into a cable car or something along those lines. Mulder and rental cars were a bad match. 

"Where do you want to eat?" he asked innocently. Unprepared for the glare he received in response, he took a physical step back. 

"Wherever, Mulder. Just pick somewhere, okay?" She really didn't feel like playing games right now. Her vacation plans were slowly unraveling and she was getting angrier about it by the second. Who the hell did he think he was, following her like this? And he still had yet to explain why he had done it. 

After what seemed like forever, the doorman signaled them over to a waiting cab. "Where to?" the driver asked in heavily accented English. Mulder made an executive decision, scanning the ad that was staring him in the face. "Pier 39," he told the driver, then turned to his partner. "We can go there," he said, pointing to the ad that had caught his attention. 

Scully looked at the ad, but didn't react immediately. Instead, she took a deep breath and counted backwards from ten. Twice. "The Bubba Gump Shrimp Factory? Mulder, you have to be kidding." 

Mulder didn't answer. It had just dawned on him why Scully was being so hostile towards him. She did not want him there. True, he had done a little digging to find where she had gone. So what? He hadn't done it to ruin her weekend. He had only needed to know where she was, and that she was okay. Her friendship was the only thing he had left in the world. Arriving at work to find no Scully and a cryptic email for an explanation was worrisome - frightening actually. He had gone with his gut instinct. Find her and go wherever she was. Make sure she was ok. And that she was coming back. 

But now, it was obvious he should not have come to San Francisco without telling her – no, asking her – first. He wasn't sure how he could explain to her his reasons for flying 3,000 miles to surprise her. Everyone who had ever meant anything to him had gone away suddenly, never to return. Things had been less than pleasant at work recently. Too many secrets, too many lies. And no answers. Both of them had been feeling the strain. He was worried that she had gone away for good. Childish as that line of reasoning may have seemed, he couldn't help how he felt. 

Scully was overcome with a sense of shame. Looking at her partner damn near broke her heart. He was staring out the window with the saddest look she had ever seen on the face of another human being. Those puppy dog eyes were for real. How could she have been so mean to him? It was obvious that something was bothering him; bothering him enough to make him follow her all this way. She resolved not to treat him poorly or say anything hurtful during lunch. It was only one meal, right? 

She leaned over and placed her hand gently on her partner's arm. "Mulder, I'm sorry. There are plenty of other restaurants on the Pier. Why don't we look at a few menus before deciding one way or another?" 

He turned to her, his expression still wounded. "Sure. I guess that's fair. Sorry for being such a presumptuous ass. And I'm not just referring to lunch." 

"Apology accepted," she replied graciously. The fact that he had apologized for showing up unannounced, not to mention uninvited, told her just how big of a bitch she had been to him this morning. He rarely picked up on subtleties. If she only knew why it was he chose to show up like this, maybe she could be a little more understanding. Still, it was her vacation he had invaded. 

The cab was getting deeper and deeper into a tangle of tourist traffic the closer they got to the Pier. Fortunately, their driver was very aggressive, and kept making progress. Unfortunately, their driver was very aggressive; he was cutting people off left and right, and had nearly sent a family of four to an early grave. 

He swung the car into a small open space and announced what their fare would be. Both Scully and Mulder reached for their wallets, but Scully was faster. She tipped him fairly generously, just thankful to be out of the cab alive. 

Stepping out of the car, she instantly knew that Mulder had been right about her clothes. She was freezing. The wind coming off of the water was a lot colder than it had been on Union Square, where she was surrounded by all those tall buildings. She didn't want to let Mulder know how cold she was, so she grabbed his arm and steered him into the pedestrian traffic that was coursing through the pier. 

Dodging strollers and people, who seemed to have no idea that there were other bodies around them, they pushed forward. Mulder pulled her into the first available unoccupied area. She was thankful that the wind wasn't so bad right there, and she was able to keep from shivering. "So Scully, what sounds good for lunch?" 

She glanced to her right, and spied the Pier Market. She remembered from the last time she had been in San Francisco that they had the best fresh crab in the entire city. She gestured towards the sign. "Why don't we eat there?" 

"The Pier Market? But, they serve seafood. If you want seafood, why can't we go to Bubba Gump's?" He asked, sounding as if he was about to start whining like a child. 

"It's not that I don't want seafood, Mulder. But I want seafood at a restaurant that is well known for it, not at a place that is based on a movie!" she reasoned, hoping that she didn't sound too annoyed. 

"Well, it was a good movie, right? Don't you think the food would have to be good?" He countered, not quite ready to give up on what had to be the most extensive shrimp menu in the world, if the movie's dialogue was any indication. "Remember? 'Shrimp Gumbo, fried shrimp, shrimp kabobs, shrimp sandwiches.'" 

He could tell by her expression that he wasn't making any progress. "Okay, Pier Market it is. But they better have shrimp sandwiches." 

Within 30 minutes, they were seated at a table with a water view, perusing the Pier Market's menu. The hostess had taken their drink orders: one bottle of Anchor Steam, one Diet Coke. For five minutes, they sat in silence, Scully, looking over the menu, Mulder, reading the paper place mat and trying to figure out how he could get hold of some of those crayons they gave to all the kids. When Scully finally put her menu down, she found Mulder sitting there with his hands folded, waiting patiently. "Ready to order, Scully?" he asked politely. 

"Yeah, do you see our server?" She hadn't even finished the sentence when a gorgeous young man walked up, his name tag proclaiming him to be 'Nicky'. 

"Good afternoon, folks. I'm your server, Nicky. What can I get you for lunch?" He turned to Scully, waiting for her to order. Mulder kept a close watch on her, half expecting her to start drooling. 

With a dreamy look on her face, she recited her order in soft tones, causing the waiter to have to lean forward to catch what she was saying. Mulder couldn't help but wonder if that was an intentional move on her part. Or the waiter's. 

Her eyes never left the waiter as he took Mulder's order. She smiled widely when he told her he would be right back with a refill for her diet soda. 

Mulder leaned forward. "Scully, just what is it with you and buck-toothed men?" His effort at humor caught him a swift kick to the shin. 

"I thought we agreed to be pleasant today," she said, her eyes flashing brightly. 

"Just an observation," Mulder said, lifting his hands in an apologetic gesture. 

She was still groping for a sufficiently sarcastic reply when the waiter approached with her diet soda, and a fresh basket of French bread for their table. "Your meals should be out in just a few minutes," he said brightly, noting that the two people at the table seemed less than thrilled to be there. He couldn't help but wonder just what the situation with those two was. His friends had always told him, his insatiable curiosity was his worst trait. He couldn't help it if he just wanted to know everything about people. Especially the attractive ones. 

Scully swished her straw around in her diet coke. She was still hoping that she would suddenly wake up to find this had all been a dream. A bad dream. She wasn't holding her breath. Of course, if she could get just a few seconds of uninterrupted flirting with the waiter, that would brighten her day considerably. 

Across the table from her, Mulder was flipping his place mat around to see what all was written on it. He never ceased to amaze her. For such an incredibly well educated man, he was easily amused. She grinned at the thought as she watched him gaze wistfully at the crayons in the clutches of a giggling 4 year old at the next table. 

She had just reached for another slice of bread when she saw the waiter approaching from the kitchen. She was sure his eyes were locked on hers, and she murmured to Mulder, "Put your place mat down, here comes lunch." 

"Aw, Scully, not right here on the table!" He offered, knowing full well he was asking for it. 

Sure enough, he found himself staring right into the fiercest Scully-glare he'd ever encountered. "Ok, ok. I'll behave." Some people had no sense of humor. 


End file.
